


Thrill

by Sing



Category: Black Mirror (TV), Striking Vipers
Genre: Character Study, Flashbacks, Gen, One Shot, Poetry, Striking Vipers - Freeform, i had many thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-23 07:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19146643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sing/pseuds/Sing
Summary: Contemplating the nature of chasing a Thrill, some glimpses of the past. Foreshadowing what's to come?





	Thrill

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Black Mirror
> 
> Comments please!

You know who dies young?

The reckless.

Adventurous.

Hungry, ravenous, panting for more, greater than. 

They teach us, to be hungry. 

* * *

 

"You want anything in life you've gotta work twice as hard."

"You've gotta be twice as good"

"You can do anything you put your mind to."

"You have more opportunities thanI did growing up."

"The world is your oyster."

"The world is changing."

The  _world_ is changing.

* * *

Teach us to crave. 

To seek.

Sometimes in our pursuits of our potential we isolate ourselves.

Dig ourselves so deep into our own trenches. 

Fighting our good fight, our personal war against the world, peers, for the future they reared us to salivate for.

You go so hard on forging tomorrow you forget about today. Until.

Until you stand still and realize everything and everyone is blur around you.

Striving to thrive.

Labouring. 

Slaving.

Snap to reality, and remember that the world is teeming with people like you.

And they're craving, too.

And they've been barricading themselves too, and so we need to feel something, anything.

Ain't no one got time, for sit downs and getting to know, you's.

* * *

 Pulsing lights, writhing bodies, heavy bass.

Sweaty palms, colliding lips, searching tongues. 

* * *

We keep on,  wanting,

things.

To feel alive, is to be  _live_

_crackling like a fire._

_Sparking like a cut wire._

Dangerous. Vital. 

Present. 

Hyperaware.

* * *

"You wanna try?" 

"You gone smoke your whole brain up"

"Man shut the fuck up and light up girl."

"Karl."

"You babying the woman Danny."

"Karl."

"It's alright, Danny."

"See, that's my girl, Dan, see  Theo _got this_."

A swift grab, a light. "Fuck you Karl."

A sharp grin, hazy eyes. "You wish."

**_"Yo."_ **

"You can get some of this action Danny baby, just ask." His eyes glimmer like a dare. 

* * *

  _crackling like a fire._

_Sparking like a cut wire._

* * *

 

Glared daggers. Heated. A line treaded. Locked gaze. Inhale.

"Fuck off Karl."

Hands thrown up in absolution, raucous taunting laughter.

The room starts to spin. 

"Shit I work in the morning."

Is that my voice? so high and far away? Is that _my_ giggling?

Laughter, ringing in my ears. 

* * *

 

The sort of awareness and clarity

that draws near like oblivion

at capacity

at the brim

the limits,

            ** _S                  T                      R                        E                       T                      C                        H                          E                          D_**

 

surpassed,

ready to                                                                                                                                                      

 _*burst*_             

* * *

 

" _Uh"_

creak, creak, creak

the rickety bed frame

the coiled spring

spiraling higher

building building

”don’t stop”

panted, gasped, _desperate_

”don’t stop”

to Lose,

 something

_”faster, faster”_

in order to gain, something

control.

inhibition

chasing a high

" _Ah ah ah, uh, uh"_

words devolve into the purest

most unintelligible of lilting vowels

guttural as they are sweet

whimpers as much as they are passionate cries 

the sweetest defeat

the most triumphant surrender

_*release*_

rumbling chuckles in crook of neck, opened mouthed kisses on your skin. 

A shallow slow thrust, 

securely nestling deeper, attaching

losing themself in the {haven} of you

”get off me I can’t breathe”

more smug laughter.  

this never should have happened.

we, shouldn’t happen.

we’ll destroy each other.

I don’t wanna die in a fiery blaze

* * *

  _crackling like a fire._

_Sparking like a cut wire._

* * *

 

I wanna _survive_

”let me go” 

an affectionate squeeze.

one returned.

”Theo”

”this doesn’t have to be, anything”

”Theo”

”please”

I wanna 

**_THRIVE_ **

* * *

 

Do we ever know what are our dreams?

Or only the fabricated constructs of what we're fed.

How many lies are we force fed

only to vomit them up later.

How many thresholds to cross

to find success

To find the ultimate

To find _Enough_

What if we are just insatiable, at our core

That we will always want,

everything

what's not ours to keep

what's not ours, to want.

To have the audacity to be satisfied-----can anyone ever be?

In truth, to be satisfied,

doesn't that mean, you've already lived to the fullest of your limits.

You have already rode every wave,

felt every high,

crashed and burned

and risen from every fall you could stagger away from.  

You've already had, all your thrills.

You know who dies young?

* * *

 

The ones who chase the thrill to ends of the earth.

To damnation.

To carelessness.

Risking any and everything to be alive

to break from the simulation

disconnect from the program or maybe----log in

to _feel_ something.

Anything.

_Be someone._

Sometimes we chase even the things that will fail us.

Our illusions are so strong.

But here I am.

Chasing my thrill. 

My reminder, to be alive.

I use to think the flame would consume me.

That the spark would short circuit my heart.

I grew to fear it.

To fear it's wrath and hunger, how it wants.

That demon we all think we've tamed.

But it lurks in us all, waiting, pacing.

* * *

"To the happy couple. May they live long ass boring lives together, forever. For eternity. I hope it's everything you could have asked for Punk ass cowards."

A wedding, a toast. A groom, a bride. A best man, crass, drink in hand, heavily leaning, a ruse of inebriation.

But the eyes are too sharp. Too keen.

The bride ducks her head averting her gaze from the familiar searing eyes, glimmering like a knifes edge.

 _Coward_  

 _A_ firm grip of hand and she looks up at her husband. The dark, mysterious depths. The restlessness in them. He's wild too, she thinks fleetingly. 

You're not any safer, here.

You're a lamb among wolves.

You try, to be a lamb, anyway.

"To the Bride and Groom!"

* * *

Lipstick, dusty rose.

And curls, falling over my shoulder.

My soft war paint.

My preening of feathers and strutting of plumage.

It's time for my hunt.

My night to stalk and satisfy my wild.

It's been a long time coming.

Maybe I should have known better, than to try contain it.

Better than to think any of us, could.

Risk,

take a chance,

be on the verge of losing something

your breath,

your life,

your sanity,

                                          _*Your*_

                                                                                  _*Wife*_  

                                                                                                        _is_

                                                                                                                  _that_

 

                                                                                                                                                                      _a_

                                                                                                                                      _**risk**_

                                                                                                                                                              _you're(I'm)_

 

 

                                                                                                                                                  **_willing_ **

                                                                                                                                                                          _to_

 

 

                                                                                                                                                        _**take?**_

To keep, 

You

Me

_Us_

 

 

What if

In our fight

our good fight

our sacrifices 

to win and keep each other

What if all it means is

I've already lost, you

* * *

 

A swirled drink in hand. 

It's a good night, a lovely night.

For possibilities

for chances

night sky, shimmering stars.

And my skin prickles knowing I'm being watched. 

* * *

 

What if all it means, is,

You've already lost, me

* * *

"Can I buy you drink?"

* * *

**_*Yes*_ **

* * *

I survived.

Tonight,

 _ **I**  _ _Thrive_

 

  _crackling like a fire._

_Sparking like a cut wire._

* * *

 

 _"_ Names........"

That won't matter later, not really.

"I'm Theo"

"You with anyone?"

A grin, casual toss of hair. Calm, slow perusal of his form.

Her tongue slowly glides along her lip, looking up through lowered lashes. 

" _Now I am"_

* * *

 

_**Chasing** _

_My_

 

**_Thrill._ **

 

 


End file.
